The Emerald Heist
by The Inner Titan
Summary: A very mysterious thief makes a worldwide reputation for himself, hitting museums around the world of different reknown. The strange thing is, everything the thief has stolen is green, and he leaves a catlike scratch where the stolen item once lay. Can Tintin outsmart this clever, erratic man and his troupe? Or will he need help? T for violence & some language. Some OC's & French.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello, and welcome to my first Tintin fanfic! I hope you enjoy, and I want to apologise for my lack of speaking French, and then writing a fanfic in which the language is spoken often. I have to use google translate. 'XD If anyone could help, please don't hesitate to PM me!**

**Also, RandomPerson164, this is for you, as is Ch. 1!**

**EDIT: Due to a request that made quite a bit of sense, I am switching the French dialogue into English** _in Italics_.** However, I did leave a tiny bit of the dialogue in French, as I don't want to get rid of some important French phrases. Thank you for this suggestion, Pink-Pencil-Girl303. :) Hope it helps, and enjoy the story!**

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~Prologue~  
It was dark and sleety that night. The stars in the sky were muted and steely looking, seeming to have been pinned to the air had a cold and biting chill, reflecting the mood of the lone man walking quickly down the sidewalk. The watery snow soaked into his trenchcoat, sounding slightly when it hit the wool. His breath steamed in the cold night air, coming a constantly thickening haze. He looked at his watch worriedly. He would be late for a very important meeting if he did not hurry. Picking up the pace, he felt the wind beginning to tear at his coat and numb his face, and he pulled the collar of his coat up higher. Finally, he made. the street he was looking for. "Twenty-two, Rue de Harrison," he muttered to himself as he looked for the number. He spotted it on a small, shack-like house with a candle in the window. The flame burned an emerald green. He smiled a bit at this, knowing the meaning of the signal. He walked up to the door and knocked softly, three times.  
"_Allô_?" He whispered softly.  
"_Password_?" A rougher voice inquired from the other side of the door.  
"_Mensonges jaded_," he answered promptly, and waited for enterance.  
The door was opened quickly, and the man stepped in. He immediately looked at the man who had admitted him. He took in the man's aquiline fearures and restless hands, and immediately recognized his old colleague. "_Aldéric! You! Here_?"  
Aldéric gave a sly grin and replied, "_Yes, my friend. It seems we have another business to deal with together. In... America." _His lip curled as he said the place's name.  
"_In America? Surely not!" _His companion protested, _"There is a price on our heads!"_  
"_When is there not one, Gintaras?_" Aldéric laughed quietly.  
Gintaras shifted uncomfortably. "_Fine. What's the job this time?"_ He asked, leaning in as his comrade told him the job. He hesitated before he replied. He had been a saboteur, blackmailer, and even a murderer, but had never been trusted with something this important. If he were to mess up, this could end very, very badly. He could even lose his life. Nevertheless, he nodded, and with one swift movement, he extinguished the dark green flame with his left hand, saying, "_Very well. Where is the boy?_"

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**A/N: ...And I'm back! The plot thickens, eh? Well, hope you enjoyed, and please Read and Review in that helpful white box at the bottom of this page. :)**

**And, please, someone help me with the French, as I'm using Google Translate, and I've been told it is a non-reputable source. If you want to help me out, please PM me! I'll be forever in your debt! :D**


	2. The Plot Thickens

**A/N: Happy Thanksgiving all! My present to you is:**

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Roy walked over to the counter where his friends were sitting at the counter, and ordered a chocolate malt. His pal Jimmy swivled on his seat, surprised. "Say, Roy, didn't expect you to come along!"  
"I hardly thought I'd be along myself, pal. My pop almost blew a gasket when he saw the bill for the lettuce I spent last time." Roy said, grimacing.  
Jimmy grinned, "Parents are such fuddy-duddies. P'shaw, the gang needs life around here, and we don't get that by watching paint dry."  
Walter turned to talk to the others, saying, "Can you believe what Mr. Jenkins did to Tom in class today? What a fat-head! Poor Tom. He didn't deserve 100 sentences for talking to a girl in class."  
Jimmy looked out from under his bangs at Walter. "So that's why he didn't show up! Poor Tom, indeed. Not like he's on 'active duty's or something. Who they really need to hammer is Alex."  
"Alex? That chump? What a total 'sheik'." Walter said snarkily. "I'm surprised he hasn't dropped out yet."  
Just then, Tom walked in, his face crimson and eyes averted. Roy spotted him and motioned him over in a friendly manner. "What's buzzin', cousin?" He asked him, though he knew the answer.  
Tom flashed him an impish smile. "Well, I was going fishing with Mary Garnet, but Mr. Jenkins spotted me at it and flipped his wig , so I got on the hot seat." He plunked down beside Roy. "Gerry, I'd like a Vanilla twist," he ordered quickly, and the worker went to work yet again. Gerry didn't mind the local gang, as they were a fun group to serve and always left a tip. And they almost never brawled. So what was there to complain about? He watched the kids mess around and tease Tom about being a 'drugstore cowboy' , in response to which he dumped his Vanilla twist down the back of Walter's shirt. The boys howled with laughter as Walter leapt from his seat in shock. Then he good-naturedly "got revenge" and poured his soda down Tom's front. Soon enough, the boys got their temper under control.  
"Stop being a grandstand, Tom," Roy said, wiping a mirthful tear from his eye.  
Tom gave him a sarcastic eye roll. "Like you haven't done so either, like that time with Beth-"  
Just then, the feminine members of the gang made an enterance to the malt shop.  
Roy's jaw almost dropped. Beth was with the regulars, and she was looking. At. Him. And smiling.  
Tom elbowed him. "Whatcha waiting for? Go ask her?"  
Roy just stood there like a deer in headlights.  
Veronica sidled up to Tom, "So, I hear the dance is tonight." She said coyly.  
Tom smiled at her. "No need to go gamming. I'll pick you up at six."  
Veronica's smile brightened enough that it could almost blind someone.  
Meanwhile, the Jimmy had hooked up with Mary, who was blushing furiously, and Nancy was all but throwing herself at an oblivious Walter. Roy just stood there dumbly, staring at Beth. Tom decided to help the poor kid out. "So, Roy, you takin' someone?" He asked loudly.  
Roy kept looking at Beth, who had finally turned at the sound of Tom's voice. "Why... no. Would... would you..." Roy tripped over his words, looking at Beth. She gave him a small smile, and, quite unexpectedly, darted over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "Pick me up at six," she whispered in his ear, and ran out the door, giggling.  
Soon many of the gang members left to prepare for the dance, and then Roy and Tom were the only ones left. Tom drained the last of what would be his third Vanilla Twist, and left a wad of cash on the counter.  
As he left, he heard Roy give out a joyous shout, and he smiled, despite himself. Now, he just had to convince his pop to let him pick up his date in a motorcycle...  
Two men watched Tom leave from the shadows of an alley.  
"_Is it him?_" One man asked his compatriot.  
"_Yes. We will have him by nighttime."_ The other confirmed. They both watched the boy until he disappeared from view.

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**A/N: Who are these people? And what do they want with Tom? I'm so naughty, a bit of suspense there!**

** Sorry Tintin wasn't in this chapter. He'll come in around Chapter 3!**

**Also, Thanks to RandomPerson164 for my cover!**


	3. A Dance Gone Horribly Wrong

**A/N: Finally, I was able to update today. I hope this chapter satisfies you all! Thanks to RandomPerson164 for supporting me and this fanfic! Here's a cookie for you, buddy! (::)**

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Tom slicked his reddish hair back carefully, making sure that every last strand lay flat against his head. He wasn't vain or anything, but he wanted to look good for the dance that had been the talk of the town for weeks. His green eyes danced at the prospect of being able to show up in his older brother James' motorcycle, since... Well, his brother was in the war. In fact, if the war was still being waged when he turned 18, he too would be drafted. He was saddened at this thought, but brushed it away, straightening the collar of his shirt. Whistling, he gave his parents a smart wave and all but jumped on the motorcycle. He revved the engine, and took off, the sidecar groaning at the pace he was going. He grinned almost maniacally and sped up, almost not able to contain himself in his excitement. He'd be the envy of everyone there!

Gintaras banged his hand on the table, infuriated by his comrade's refusal to listen to his doubts. "Regardez, ne voyez-vous pas leurs personnalités évidemment dífferentes? C'est comme metre en place Don Juan de Don Quichotte!"  
Alderić laughed nervously, replying, "Il fonctionnera assez bien. Il n'a qu'à parler encore une fois, et avec un pistolet formés sur lui, je suis sûr qu'il sera plus conforme. La Glisser ira comme prévu. Et ça commence ce soir."  
Gintaras looked at him angrily, still unconvinced. "Trés bien. Mais je vais jeter le blâme sur vous si quelque chose va mal..."

"Tom! Please, slow down!" Veronica pleaded as Tom sped over another curb. He wasn't stopping for anything. With the squeal of tires on asphalt, he made another sharp turn and almost sent Veronica flying out of the sidecar. She gripped the metal sides, her fingers having long since lost all feeling and her knuckles were paler than porcelain. "Relax! We're almost there!" Tom shouted, running a light. It was a wonder that they hasn't been reported yet, Tom thought dryly.  
Within the next few hair raising minutes, Tom had skidded to a stop in front of the pavilion that school dances were hosted at. He courteously helped Veronica out of the sidecar, but himself leaned against his motorcar to wait for his friends. Many people had come to marvel at his ride, as the loud, tell-tale noise still echoed slightly. He spotted Walter and Jimmy looking at him enviously, and he flashed them a show-offish smile. When he had had enough of posing with 'his girl', he mock bowed to her and asked, "Would you like to dance, my lady?"  
Veronica blushed and nodded, smiling widely. She took his arm and they made their way to the pavilion. They started dancing in a relatively empty quarter of the floor, but somehow danced their way into the middle. The soft lights glowed and the band was full of energy, and it gave Tom just the atmosphere he wanted. He smiled at Veronica flirtatiously and gently tucked a loose piece of her hair behind her ear as they danced; she giggled and pulled away slightly, the corners of her lips tugging into a half smile. Before Tom could say anything, he felt someone slap him on the back and turned around, annoyed. Standing there was Roy, grinning like an idiot. "Hey pal, just... Well, I wanted to... To thank you for..."  
Tom snorted and rolled his eyes. "Mmph, it was nothing." Tom said modestly. He noticed Beth standing not too far off, watching Roy with an ecstatic look on her face. "Speaking of which, you'd better go watch your catch before it swims away," Tom said innocently as Alex started to slide over towards Beth, who had the decency to ignore him. Roy took the hint and shot towards Beth as if taking off from a cannon. As if nothing had happened, Tom and Veronica resumed their dancing.  
Gazing into Veronica's eyes as she talked ro him,Tom noticed something out of the ordinary. _Huh..._ He thought,_ since when did Veronica have dark green in her eyes?_ Then it struck him that it was a reflection of something.  
Instantly curious, he looked around for the source, but couldn't seem to find any. Veronica stopped talking, and looked at him curiously. He was oblivious to this as, with an excited, punctuated breath, his eyes landed on the source, which was the forested area slightly west of the pavilion. That was when he realized Veronica was looking at him oddly. Quickly, he amended, "I'm sorta parched. Come and get a drink?" He offered her, knowing that strange green light was in that direction. She nodded speedily, as she herself looked pretty parched herself. When they reached the drinks table, the greenish... -well, Tom wasn't exactly sure what it was- light seemed to flicker out. Blinking hard, Tom shook his head and proceeded to pour his date a drink. But his curiosity got the better of him. He ditched Veronica at that table and jogged down the steps of the pavilion, and came to a dead stop. There were now two green lights. What is this? Tom thought to himself, now beginning to feel a slight chill course through him. "Hello?" He called out softly, and, almost in unison, both lights disappeared. Knowing that this probably wasn't smart, Tom pressed towards the wooded area he had seen the light come from. As he walked, he flicked on his own lighter as the trees became more dense. Suddenly, he stopped. He felt like someone was watching him. Involuntarily, he started to sweatband tremble a bit. "Roy? Jimmy? Walter?" He called, stumbling a bit. But it was no use. He had wandered deep into unforgiving, strange surroundings, and was totally at the mercy of whatever lay there. How right he was. Seconds after he realized this, he felt an unbearable blow connect with the back of his skull, and he fell with a sound like a cross of a groan and a shout.  
A tall, willowy man stood above him with a revolver, in the finishing position of one who has clubbed another over the head. His face wore a triumphant expression as he called back to his comrade softly, "Alderić! Je le tiens! Tout est en ordre!"  
A second, more compact figure stepped out of the shadows, grinning like his partner, "Fantastique, Gintaras! Maintenant, nous sommes à mi-chemin. Si nous réussissons, alors Glisser va réussir, et nous serons débarrasser d'un certain journaliste Belge. Espérons tout se passe bien. Ensuite, cet effort sera vraiment la peine."

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**A/N: wanted to include the translation for the last french dialogue of this chapter. Here you go:**  
**"Fantastic, Gintaras! Now we are halfway there. If we succeed, then Swipe will succeed, and we will be rid of a certain Belgian reporter. Let us hope all goes smoothly. Then this effort will truly be worth it."**  
**So... Interested yet? Tintin WILL be in the next chapter!**

**Hopefully, my French was much better. I found a translator offered from another source, and it seems legit.**  
**Please review!**


	4. Announcement

**Sorry to those who thought this was a new chapter. I really want to thank my wonderful readers and reviewers, and I feel absolutely terrible for having to say that I won't be updating for at least a month more. Life takes its strange turns, and January finds me dealing with family tension, high expectations, social drama, and ending up on the high school Science Bowl team, even though I'm not a high schooler yet. So with all this going on, I will regretfully have to put The Emerald Heist on hold for a bit.**

**Hope I don't lose any of my readers by holding off a bit, and I feel rather unhappy breaking this news.**

**~Titan**

**PS. Special thanks to RandomPerson164, Dancer1023, LoverofLoudMusic, , and Zaphara 98 for being my reviewers and my encouragers. You all kept me writing my first fanfic ever on here, and for that I am grateful. I hope to get back to it as soon as I am able, and hope others will still be able to enjoy what I have written now.**


	5. A More Peculiar Meeting There Never Was

**Hey! So, I got a break from practicing for my Science Competition and I got inspired, so I wanted to get this up and share it with everyone while I could! As to when I next update, I can't really give a set date, but I'll try to get up one or two chapters before spring break, and probably post one then.**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed, and for your kind reassurances that my story would not be forgotten.**

**Pink-Pencil-Girl303: Thank you so much for your praise for this story's plotline, and I have tried to do my best with incorporating your suggestions into my formatting. I am struggling a bit with 's weird spacing, but hope I did a decent job splitting up paragraphs. Also, thanks for putting this story on your alert list! :)**

**kitawolf12: Thanks for your support and thoughtful review! It almost makes me want to get to the climax of the story and not update for three weeks. *heheheheh...***

**Oh, and I'm going to be calling Snowy Milou because I feel like it. :p**

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It was a silent, cold night in Brussels, the moon giving off a steely light on the strangely quiet city road below. Then again, one would have to be mad to be out on that night, as it looked as if there couldn't possibly be any more snow to be had. Everything was covered: the roofs of the buildings, the sidewalks, even the streetlights and the street itself were dusted in white. Ruining this picturesque scene, an armoured van bounced around another corner, with a very annoyed Frenchman cursing as this happened.

_"What the devil- ALDERIC! Are you not watching the road? We have enough to worry about with this old tin falling apart, without you driving like a madman!"_ Gintaras snapped, his hands clenched into fists as Alderic sped towards their destination.

Alderic swerved around a patch of thick ice before replying just as tartly, "_Look, you dithering idiot, I need you to get this through your thick head. It was not my choice to have to land in Belgium to avoid any suspicion. It was not my choice to hide the boy in a shipment of matches. And it certainly was not my choice to make the long drive to Paris!"_

_"Listen, you stupid animal,would you go against the orders of the boss? We have arrived in Brussels, as he had asked. He said that we would not attract much attention if we landed down here. So get that through this thick skull of yours."_

_"Stupid animal? Thick skull? I believe you're talking to the wrong person. It is you who has the intelligence of a mule. If you did happen to have a half-functioning brain with so much as a grain of intelligence, I'd let you drive this piece of junk yourself."_

_"Give me the wheel, you-"_Gintaras snarled and started insulting and spitting profanity at his high-strung partner, who, in his rage at this, momentarily let the van spin out of control while he tackled his comrade. Among much cursing, the van leapt over an open manhole, executed a 180° turn, and sideswiped a nearby building.

As this had happened, the back doors of the van had burst open from the weight of the cargo pounding against it. Several of the crates slipped out, including one specific shipment of matches. With a loud cacophony of wood splintering, the crates hit the pavement and goods spilled in all directions. The crate of matches was no exception. A limp form rolled from the rubble, unaware of the beating he had just taken. The speed at which he the van had gone when he had fallen out gave him too much momentum, and he ended up dangling above the open sewer. He stayed perfectly balanced there for some time, but, gravity finally won over, and he fell into the depths.

0oO0oO0oO (A/N: This is my line break, just wanted to clarify. XD)

Tintin looked around, shivering slightly. The underground canals and sewer system in Belgium was the last place he had hoped to meet an informant, but any lead was better than nothing. Using his torch to illuminate his surroundings, he saw the swift, chilly-looking water running in rutted streams by the catwalk he was walking upon, and the high, domed ceiling above him. _They'd better be here... even if it is a trap..._

Suddenly, he heard a loud screech from above, and what sounded like machinery going of control, most likely an automobile. Then there was a sound of wood splintering, but there was... something else. A dull, barely perceptible thud. Cautiously, Tintin jogged towards the noise, the beams of his torch bouncing off the walls in almost a dizzying way. He stopped when he realized that there was now utter silence. What had happened up above? Jogging towards the area from which the sound came, he noticed some limp object dangling from above. No... Someone. Then that someone started to fall.

"Mon Dieu!" He exclaimed, running towards the figure. Milou ran at his heels, yapping.

The person limply slumped further, almost falling through the hole completely. Then they slipped jerkily once more, and free fell until they hit a catwalk roughly five feet below them with a sickening thud. Tintin sprinted up one of the many iron staircases in the sewer, making it to the top of the catwalk in just seconds.  
A young boy lay unconscious and badly bruised on the narrow path, limp and bloody. As he approached cautiously, the boy stirred somewhat and tried to rise.

"Grands serpents! Allez vous bien?" Tintin asked the youth, who, as far as he could tell, was only slightly younger than him.

Then the boy spoke, his eyes dull but fearful, "What-" he cut off suddenly as if noticing his surroundings for the first time, and then down at himself. Then his eyes landed on the reporter once again. "What's going on?" He asked, his voice somewhat raspy. He looked bewildered by his surroundings.

Upon the realization the boy spoke no French, Tintin immediately switched languages. "Are you all right? What happened to you?"

"As to whether I'm all right or no, I feel like someone drove a tank over me. As to what happened, I don't rightly know." The youth paused, seemingly in deep thought. "Y'see, one moment I was at the... Wait." He seemed to reorder his priorities and asked, "Where are we?"

Tintin hated to give the answer, but nonetheless complied. "You are currently under the streets of Brussels, Belgium. I haven't a clue as how-"

"Belgium?!" Emerald eyes widened in shock as the lad digested this new information.

"Yes. Did you-" Tintin started, though it was obvious that the boy didn't know that.

"I should be back in the States!"

"America? How did you end up here?"

"I don't know."

Both fell into an uneasy silence, one filled with confusion, and the other with theories.  
Finally, the boy pushed some of the hair out of his face and asked, "You Tintin? Same one who landed the mobsters in Chicago on quite the hot seat a while back?"

"One and the same." Tintin allowed himself a small smile. He was surprised that this kid knew about that. It would have easily happened when he was too young to remember.

"The name's Tom. Tom Cooper." He gave Tintin a half-smile, but it failed to really convey any sense of happiness.

"Cooper..." Tintin muttered. He had heard the name before, but couldn't quite remember under what context.

Then Tom started to get up, stumbling slightly and letting out a small exclamation as his right leg gave out under him, and then pitched forward. Tintin snapped out of his reverie just as he was about to fall on his face. "Can you get up at all?" Tintin asked him, and received a tense and embarrassed nod in return.

After helping Tom stand back up, Tintin guided him back towards the exit of the sewers, thinking to himself, _so much for the informant... But helping an innocent, beaten-up kid is what any decent person ought to do. Or is he truly as innocent as he looks? Or could he even possibly be the informant?_ Questions circled in his head as he helped Tom up onto the streets above, dragging the manhole cover back into place.

"You haven't got a place around here, I assume," It was more of a statement than a question.

"...No." Tom replied tiredly, swiping his white shirtsleeve against the corner of his mouth, staining it red.

"You can stay at my flat for the time being, if you'd like," Tintin offered cautiously, knowing he very well may have to be on his guard.

"Thanks... pal," Tom gave him an appreciative look, "Where 'xactly is 't?" His accent began to get a bit heavier as he seemed to grow more exhausted.

"Don't mention it, kid," Tintin gave him a smile, but inside was thinking, _Something doesn't add up. Why would an American end up in a Belgian gutter, who seems not to have any enemies? There has to be some sort of reason for him being here... This wasn't a coincedence._

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**A/N: Hehe... Tintin, if only you knew... :-)**

**Woot! My longest chapter yet, ever! 1,635 words! I'm so happy :')**

**I now leave you all on a (sort of) cliffy, and hope this chappie was enjoyed! Also, I was a tiny bit rushed, so if something doesn't add up or there are any noticeable errors, please feel free to tell me! :)**

**Oh, and please, pleeeeeeaaaaase review? I will give COOKIES! :p**


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